


love me normally

by hillsandvalleys



Category: Homestuck
Genre: Alternate Universe - No Sburb Session, Established Relationship, Incest, M/M, Pedophilia, Relationship Study
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-03-14
Updated: 2021-03-14
Packaged: 2021-03-21 21:14:46
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,465
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/30027954
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hillsandvalleys/pseuds/hillsandvalleys
Summary: Dirk asks his Bro when he first saw him as something other than his kid.
Relationships: Dirk's Bro | Alpha Dave Strider/Dirk Strider
Comments: 12
Kudos: 20





	love me normally

**Author's Note:**

> some thoughts about the messiness of incest, thrown into something like a narrative <3 
> 
> cw: mentions of vomiting, mentions of csa/cp in a negative light. chose not to use archive warnings bc there's no sex, but dirk is eight when dave first realizes he's attracted to him and fifteen/sixteen when he and dave establish a relationship. 
> 
> title from "love, me normally" by will wood

“You still awake?” Dirk asks. 

You exhale slowly and watch the way your breath ruffles a few strands of his hair. He’s the little spoon tonight, a perfect fit inside of your arms in a way that still feels novel and something like precious, and the tension you can feel throughout his whole body would be concerning if it wasn’t the way he always is up until the moment when he passes out.

“Yeah, but ‘s not exactly my preferred state at the moment,” you tell him. “You know I’ve got meetings and shit tomorrow.” 

“I know,” Dirk says simply. What he doesn’t say, even though it’s absolutely true, is that he also knows that if you really cared about a single one of the meetings you’ll be dragging yourself to tomorrow, he wouldn’t be in your bed right now. 

You give him a minute to offer an explanation for the way he’s stubbornly keeping you from sleep, but none comes. You sigh softly and try to pretend that his stubbornness isn’t the smallest bit endearing, even after having to deal with it for seventeen years now. “What’s up?”

“Just wanted to talk,” Dirk says, which almost definitely isn’t true, and, “You’ve been busy,” which is.

“I know,” you say. “Listen, it’s not like I _want_ to be doing publicity shit 24/7, but apparently, people make movies to sell them? It’s a stupid reason, if you ask me, but no one really does.”

Dirk snorts, and you feel quietly victorious for pulling the sound of out him. “They should,” he mutters. There’s a pause. “Lightning round?”

“What for?”

You don’t feel Dirk’s shrug, because he rolls out of your arms when it happens, turning onto his other side so that he’s facing you. His hand finds yours again in moments. “Like I said, just want to talk.”

You squeeze his hand. “Can we raincheck? There’s a pretty fuckin’ real chance I’ll die without my beauty sleep.”

“Old man,” Dirk half-jokes, and you roll your eyes at him so you don’t think too hard about the circled number 40 (next to a circled 17) rapidly approaching on the kitchen calendar. “But that’s cool, can I just - one question.” 

You’ll admit, you’re not sure you like where this is going. Your boyfriend, who also happens to be your kid/brother, has a knack for asking questions when you’re least prepared to field them, and you know he knows this and exploits it ruthlessly. You also know that his late night questions most often relate to the absolute mess of a definition that he gets in the context of you - boyfriend, kid, brother, soulmate, best friend, and more, all wrapped up into one gorgeous, way-too-inquisitive package. But you can’t say no to him. “Alright, shoot. But just one, seriously, or it’s on you if I lose the next movie deal for saying something about sleep deprivation due to incestuous lover tomorrow.”

That earns an actual laugh. “Like that’d hurt SBaHJ,” Dirk points out, but then he falls silent. His eyes search yours for a moment, orange to red in the faint glow of moonlight and headlights slipping in through the curtains, and then he says, “I know you know when I first, like, noticed you. Your ass, specifically, but, you know, how I wanted to mack on you and all that.”

“Yeah,” you say, because you do, and because anything else that you could say would betray the sudden, sharp fear in your chest. Here’s the thing, okay? You and Dirk have been ‘together’ for almost a year now, and it took weeks of conversation and negotiation for you to even consider taking the plunge into something you’d been secretly aching for since - well. You’ll get to that. The point is that in all of the negotiations, that part never came up. It was all about Dirk: was he okay, when did this start, was he sure, you know how it goes. You’re the adult, you’re the well-adjusted one (like there’s such thing in the Strider household), and you had your shit together. There was never any need to talk about the moment when you first looked at your kid, who you’d raised from infancy, and said, _I mean, I’d tap that, and also give it lots of emotional support in a typically romantic way._ Until, you guess, now.

“So,” Dirk says, and his casual tone aches because it’s so clearly a lie. You can tell that he’s been thinking about this for a while. That makes sense, in a couple of different ways, but … it sets off whatever fuckin’ gland in your brain is responsible for guilt in a way that hasn’t hit so hard since the first few weeks of your relationship. “What about you? When did you first … notice me?” 

“Uh,” you say, drawing the sound out like you’re thinking. You’re not thinking. Or rather, you are, but you’re not wracking your brains for this memory. It’s crystal clear, front and center, and god, you’re regretting the ban you put on Dirk’s shades in bed - too many incidents with their pointed edges - because the look he’s giving you feels like it’s gently opening you up and putting all of your ugliest, most vulnerable parts on display. 

You remember it the way you remember the one car wreck you’ve been in: not like it happened yesterday, but like it’s still happening now, every second, crashing down around you but only hurting when you have a moment to notice the mangled metal and the faint scent of blood. 

It was Dirk’s eighth birthday party. Orange themed, of course, two days after your actual shared birthday, and in a hotel pool you’d rented out for the day. A bunch of his school friends were there, since it was back before he switched to home school and rushed ahead so fast that he graduated two years early, but it wasn’t any of the other kids or their parents that held your attention. It was just … Dirk.

That was nothing new. You’d loved him - in the _normal_ way, the way you’re supposed to - since the moment you first held him, and even though you knew that he was probably a better swimmer than you even then, seeing him in and near the water set your nerves on edge.

Well. Looking back, you can’t say for sure whether that’s why your heart pounded when he waved at you, tiny and dwarfed by his too big orange swim trunks, seconds before launching himself off of the diving board. 

It was just after one of those jumps that _it_ , not allowed to become a capital-i It in your brain but certainly deserving of the distinction, happened. Dirk splashed over to a nearby float and pulled himself up onto it, his little arms slipping on the wet surface for a moment before latching onto the handles, and when his chest rose out of the water, bare and dripping wet, followed by his tiny hips and legs, your dick twitched in your matching orange trunks. 

It was a fluke, you told yourself. Dicks were weird. Dicks did weird, random things, especially when you were surrounded by moms in bikinis, but then Dirk called your name, pushing his wet hair off of his face with both hands as he did, putting his arms and small smile on display, and you got, inexplicably, horribly, hard. 

You think you gave him a thumbs-up, but the panic mode that your brain entered at the moment has fuzzied the memory. The next thing you remember with absolute clarity is the cold tile of the gender neutral bathroom - the only one with a full door - under your knees as you retched into a toilet. You were disgusting. You weren’t thirteen anymore, so you didn’t have the excuse of a stiff breeze or anything else. You saw your kid half-naked and wet, and you got hard, and there was no way around it. 

Thankfully, the revulsion shuddering through your body killed your boner pretty quickly. That didn’t get the image out of your mind, though. Dirk had just looked so … small, and vulnerable, and he was giving all of his attention to you, and the next time that you jerked off, about a week later to some mediocre gay stuff you’d had bookmarked for years, you couldn’t get his face out of your mind. You didn’t finish. 

Life was still moving, of course. You were still getting Dirk ready for school and banging on the door to get him out of the shower ~~and not thinking about him beyond the bathroom door, naked and dripping, so impossibly small and perfect~~ and cooking him dinner and going to shoots and premieres and interviews and clearing your Internet history at least three times a night after researching pedophilia. 

You got drunk one night. Dirk was in bed, and for the first time in ages, the calendar for the following day was blank. You let yourself jerk off without filtering your thoughts. You justified it to yourself as a test, like, if you couldn’t finish, then you weren’t really a pedophile, right? If thoughts of your kid’s - your _kid_ , because god knows one taboo wasn’t enough - tiny chest and hands and ass and everything else didn’t push you over the edge, then you were normal and just having a weird couple of weeks, right?

Your orgasm hit you like a freight train, and you laid in bed, numb, for hours before deciding that it was fine, it was _fine_ , you would just never tell anyone and push it down and move on with your life. You texted Rose two days later. The conversation logs were wiped from your account the minute you signed off, but you remember the words by heart.

turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  


TG: hey  
TG: so like i know we usually do this whole thing  
TG: of being all coy and pretending we dont want to talk to each other or whatever  
TG: but i just  
TG: i need to talk to someone right now  
TG: uh fair warning its some heavy shit so  
TG: if youre not up for it then thats cool  
TG: totally understand  
TG: like genuinely  
TG: but uh  
TG: yeah  
TG: let me know if you have a minute i guess  
TT: Dave, are you okay?  
TG: aha  
TG: im fuckin peachy  
TT: Somehow, I don’t quite believe that.  
TT: What’s going on? You can tell me anything, you know.  
TG: i know  
TG: ok so  
TG: god i spent the past hour psyching myself up for this shit but i dont actually know if i can do it  
TG: man this is awkward  
TT: It’s alright.  
TT: I’m not going to pretend that both my curiosity and concern aren’t more piqued than before now, but take your time.  
TT: If you need to try doing this over the phone, or if you’d like to me to briefly leave the chat so you feel less as if you have an audience, just let me know.  
TG: thanks  
TG: i think this is fine its just  
TG: god  
TG: see the funny thing is that two days ago i made a pact to myself that i was taking this shit to my grave  
TG: only i was drunk when i made the pact  
TG: and i dunno i feel like not telling anyone is worse  
TG: so  
TG: here we are  
TT: Here we are.  
TT: Again, allow me to reiterate that you can tell me anything. The only judgment I’ll make is one you ask for.  
TG: i know  
TG: and  
TG: thank you  
TG: like already for just letting me spew a bunch of evasive bullshit at you  
TG: uh  
TG: god i dont know where to start  
TG: so  
TG: you know dirk right  
TG: fuck stupid question  
TT: It’s alright.  
TT: Is he okay?  
TG: yeah hes  
TG: hes good  
TG: i mean theres always the chance that im accidentally completely fucking him up  
TG: but i think ive done okay so far so  
TG: it was his eighth bday a little while ago  
TG: we had a pool party  
TG: it was pretty cool  
TG: i mean my eyes were kinda bleeding bc the theme was orange  
TG: can you believe this kid rose  
TG: i ask him what theme he wants for his party  
TG: and you know kid has some cool interests  
TG: ponies and robots and all the combinations thereof you know how eight year olds are  
TG: he says fuckin orange  
TG: not the fruit or anything just the color  
TG: but anyway  
TG: its a pool party bc hes dirk  
TG: still not convinced hes not part mermaid or something but  
TG: anyway  
TG: …  
TG: maybe i shouldnt have tried to do this sober  
TT: Please don’t go get drunk, I really don’t think that’s going to help.  
TT: Is the pool party relevant or are you just continuing to walk in metaphorical circles?  
TG: ha  
TG: no  
TG: its relevant  
TG: its kinda like  
TG: i mean it jumpstarted this whole goddamn thing  
TT: Well, what happened?  
TT: I have to say, I can’t imagine Dirk having trouble swimming or anything like that, but is that it?  
TG: nah like i said the kids almost definitely part mermaid  
TG: or i guess part fish would be a better way of putting that  
TG: you know what i mean  
TG: uh  
TG: shit lalonde sorry  
TG: i told myself i was going to just spit it out  
TG: i WARNED myself dawg  
TG: but its kinda funny  
TG: i keep typing shit and deleting it  
TG: nope send that one back into the depths of my brain that it came out of  
TG: yep that one too  
TG: goddamn got a bunch of escape artists up here  
TG: security guards are working overtime  
TG: uh  
TG: fuck  
TG: sorry give me a minute  


turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  


TT: Dave?  
TT: Dave, whatever it is, you can say it.  
TT: Are you okay?  
TT: Please tell me you’re not getting drunk.  
TT: Do I need to call someone for you?  


turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  


TG: sorry no im all good  
TG: i just had to throw up  
TG: uh  
TG: not in a drunk way i promise just in a  
TG: god this is really a conversation im having huh  
TG: that kinda way  
TT: ...  
TT: Are you absolutely sure you don’t need me to call someone?  
TT: Obviously, I’d come if I could, but the soonest I could get there is tomorrow afternoon.  
TG: no no im seriously all good  
TG: close that goddamn flight search lalonde  
TT: Okay.  
TT: Let me know if that changes. It’s really no big deal.  
TG: okay  
TG: thanks  
TT: Of course.  
TT: Alright, are you feeling ready to try again?  
TG: yeah i  
TG: here goes nothing right  
TG: so  
TG: at the pool party  
TG: i mean obviously im watching dirk because even though i know hes not going to drown or anything hes still a kid so  
TG: and hes showing me all of his flips and shit  
TG: …  
TT: Dave, what happened?  
TG: hey real quick  
TG: i mean obviously this is just between us but its just between us right  
TG: what happens on pesterchum at midnight stays on pesterchum at midnight  
TT: Of course.  
TT: I know that you’re uncomfortable, but I’m pretty sure stalling is making it worse.  
TG: i know  
TG: …  
TG: i got hard  
TG: like  
TG: welcome to boner city population me  
TG: this shits not going away til you throw up in the bathroom buddy  
TT: Okay.  
TT: Give me a moment. I’m not passing judgment, I’m just collecting my thoughts.  
TG: cool  
TG: cool cool cool  
TT: Alright.  
TT: So, you’re certain this wasn’t due to the, I assume, other people at this party?  
TG: yeah  
TG: im certain i mean  
TG: like okay yeah there were lots of milfs in bikinis or whatever  
TG: plenty of dads too  
TG: but i wasnt  
TG: they werent the ones i was looking at  
TT: Okay.  
TT: Is this the first time you’ve … responded this way? To Dirk, I mean.  
TG: yeah?  
TG: i mean  
TG: yeah  
TG: the question mark is just kinda like  
TG: im kinda scared that i mightve  
TG: earlier  
TG: and just didnt let myself think about it  
TG: uh  
TG: i thought it was a fluke right  
TG: i mean dicks are weird  
TG: and obviously i didnt want it to be anything else  
TG: like christ you know how it was when i first got him  
TG: sure ive mostly figured the parent thing out sorta  
TG: and you know i just  
TG: i dont want to fuck him up  
TT: What says it’s not a fluke?  
TT: Our brains are often attracted to the taboo, and that can manifest in various ways.  
TG: i know i know  
TG: but  
TG: okay so the other day i decided to just figure my shit out  
TG: and dont get me wrong i didnt  
TG: watch anything or shit like that  
TG: im not that fucked up  
TG: but i kinda let myself think about  
TG: well you know  
TG: dirk  
TG: and i was hoping that i wouldnt be able to get off  
TG: because that would mean it was a fluke right  
TG: like maybe my subconscious was thinking about the bikinis or whatever  
TG: but  
TG: not gonna get into it because somehow telling you about masturbating feels like its crossing a line even in this hell conversation  
TG: but im  
TG: pretty sure its not a fluke  
TG: i mean okay  
TG: so ive done research and i dont know if im  
TG: you know  
TG: officially a pedo or whatever  
TG: like i mean other people are still hot so its not like its exclusive but  
TG: not exclusive to like  
TG: kids  
TG: i mean  
TG: i dont know if its exclusive to dirk and i dont really want to figure that out  
TG: i dont know  
TG: terminology is confusing as fuck and i dont really get it  
TG: i dunno  
TG: i feel so fuckin bad  
TG: what if im messing him up without even knowing  
TG: im obviously not going to do anything  
TG: i would never  
TG: id kill himself before i hurt him  
TG: but i just  
TG: like ok hopefully it goes away right  
TG: but what if it doesnt  
TG: or what if it goes away when he hits puberty  
TG: i dont think i could handle that either because what would that say about me  
TG: i dont know  
TG: im gonna stop barfing words at you  
TG: mostly because i think i need to actually barf again  
TG: brb  


turntechGodhead [TG] ceased pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  


TT: Okay, I’ll just go ahead and leave some things for you to read when you come back.  
TT: First off, please don’t mistake my delayed responses for judgment. I won’t pretend that I haven’t internalized our society’s stigma against attraction to children, even in cases where no child has been harmed, but - I am genuinely trying to pick my words carefully here.  
TT: I’m sorry that you’re going through this, and I mean that completely.  
TT: I also can’t say how relieved I am to know that you’ve reached out.  
TT: …  
TT: Even if these feelings don’t disappear, or if they extend beyond Dirk, that doesn’t inherently make you bad.  
TT: There are groups, although I’m sure you’ve found them in your research, for people that are attracted to pre-pubescent minors but want to do whatever possible to avoid any child being harmed.  
TT: There are also many therapists that are qualified to help with situations like this, although I will warn you that that could place you in a gray area with custody.  


turntechGodhead [TG] began pestering tentacleTherapist [TT]  


TG: one sec  
TG: okay yeah  
TG: thanks  
TG: yeah i  
TG: ive seen some of the groups  
TG: i dont know about therapy though  
TG: i mean  
TG: obviously theres confidentiality shit but my career would be permanently fuckin ruined if anything even got close to coming out  
TG: and i cant  
TG: god if its best for him then of course id let him go but i cant lose dirk  
TG: you know that  
TT: I know.  
TT: That said, though, I think you’ll understand if I’m worried about him.  
TG: i told you id never hurt him  
TG: id cut off my own dick if i ever actually thought about it  
TT: I know. I’m not saying that you’re going to.  
TT: But I can’t imagine that your current headspace is doing him any good, whether you think you’re acting differently or not.  
TT: He’s welcome to come stay here. It’d be no trouble to excuse him from school for a bit, as I have no doubt that he’d catch up quickly, or to enroll him at Roxy’s school.  
TT: We’d frame it as a vacation, of course, a chance for him and Roxy to hang out.  
TG: rose  
TG: im not going to fucking hurt him  
TG: im not going to touch him or  
TG: im not  
TG: i couldnt  
TT: I know. I’m not saying that you’re going to. I’m saying that you seem less than stable right now, and that Dirk is more than perceptive enough to pick up on that.  
TT: It’ll only be as long as you need it to be.  
TG: i know  
TG: i just  
TG: im scared that if i give him up then im never going to let myself take him back  
TG: but i cant lose him  
TG: hes my kid  
TT: I understand.  
TT: But I really want you to think about this.  
TT: I don’t want to get anyone else involved in this, but you understand that it does look suspicious that you don’t want him to come here.  
TG: jesus christ its not like that  
TG: you know its not  
TT: I know.  
TT: Believe me, I am trying my absolute hardest to trust you, and I do.  
TT: I just wouldn’t be able to forgive myself if something happens or has happened to him.  
TT: Try and imagine that our positions are reversed, okay? You’d want to separate Roxy and me, even briefly, so that I could sort myself out without it affecting her and so that you could make absolutely sure that she wasn’t already affected.  
TT: I’m not trying to insult you or insinuate anything, I promise.  
TG: …  
TG: i know youre right  
TG: im just trying to  
TG: what the fuck am i gonna tell him  
TG: what if he thinks im abandoning him  
TT: Tell him that he’s getting to go on vacation. He loves Roxy, you know those two will be ecstatic. Tell him that you have to go abroad for work and that you’d love to bring him but can’t.  
TG: hes gonna see through anything i tell him in two seconds and you know it  
TT: Dave.  
TT: He’s eight.  
TT: Yes, he’s an exceptionally smart eight year old, but he’s still eight. I’ll be there to corroborate your story, and I guarantee that he’ll be so excited about getting to spend time in a different place and with Roxy that he won’t have too much time to think about it.  
TG: are you sure  
TT: Absolutely.  


You’d worked it out from there, and the next afternoon, Rose was at your door, Roxy waving excitedly from her side. You greeted Rose with a nod, not meeting her eyes even through your shades, and Roxy with a hug that you know Rose was watching carefully. It made you feel sick to know that she was making sure that your hands stayed on Roxy’s back, that you didn’t pull her in too close or for too long, and you let go of her after a moment and refused to let yourself think of the way she felt pressed up against you, small and fragile and holding you right back, or whether or not you liked it. 

Dirk was confused, understandably, but you used the work cover that Rose had suggested and framed it as a vacation. Rose nodded along, and you pretended not to see the glance she shot you when Dirk said, “But why can’t Bro come?” 

You explained to him that it was “work, little man,” and ruffled his hair and promised you’d see him soon, and when he moved in for a hug, Rose’s hand was on his shoulder in an instant.

“Ready to go?” she asked, and then they were gone. 

The first two days, you just sat on the couch. You made it through more levels of Candy Crush than anyone under 60 should in 48 hours, and you kept the T.V. turned on just to make sure that your thoughts were audible as rarely as possible. On the third day, you woke up in a panic because it was too late, your alarm hadn’t gone off and now Dirk was going to be late for school, and you bit your lip and didn’t cry when the room you rushed into was empty.

After two weeks, Rose agreed to let you call him. She put you on speakerphone, and Dirk told you all about New York and the cool places Rose had taken him to and how he got to hang out with Roxy all the time but had to go to bed earlier and how he loved it here but wanted to come home soon because it was too cold. You listened, laughed and asked questions in all the right places, and then Rose told Dirk to say goodbye and goodnight and took the phone off speaker.

She asked how you were doing. You made the verbal equivalent of a shrug and said you were doing fine. You didn’t call again for two weeks.

The next time you talked with Rose, she quietly told you that Dirk was starting to worry that you weren’t coming back, and that if you were comfortable with it, she could bring him home the following weekend. Her only caveat was that you would both be subject to weekly conversations with her, and you agreed but asked for an extra week. 

Dirk came back, and life went as closely back to normal as it could. You got to the point where you could see him without your first thought tripping and stumbling directly into the gutter simply because of how hard you were trying to keep it from doing so, and Rose moved her check-ins from weekly to monthly. Things were … fine. And then one day, he told you that he was in love with you, and now you’ve both been lying to Rose for a year and now he’s lying in your bed, his thumb rubbing gentle circles on the back of your hand as he says, “Bro?”

“Uh,” you say again. Without letting go of his hand, you roll onto your back and stare up at the ceiling. You could lie, but you know he’d see right through it. “Do you remember when you went to stay with the Lalondes for, like, a month?”

Dirk is quiet for a moment. “When I was eight?” he asks, and even though he’s trying to hide the surprise in his tone, it’s bright and obvious like a blade between your ribs. You know he was expecting fourteen, fifteen, maybe the day that he confessed to you and therefore introduced himself as an option, but you also know that he wouldn’t have asked if he didn’t know that this was an option. 

“Yeah,” you say. “It was, uh, your birthday party, the pool one. I wouldn’t have, I never would have, but Rose - she offered to give me some space to deal and to make sure that I hadn’t already fucked you up irreparably. Which, hey, I passed the test for a while, but … well.” 

“Hey, you didn’t fuck me up,” Dirk says. He leans over and presses a kiss to your cheek, soft, and you close your eyes. “Seriously, I had no idea until I told you how I felt.”

You’re quiet for a moment. You have no idea what to say, not when you can practically hear Dirk sorting through his memories, trying his best to recreate every day you two spent together after that party and wondering if anything that he did made you _look_.

After a moment, Dirk speaks again. “I know I said one question, but I’m pretty sure follow-ups are included in those, right?”

You want to say no. You don’t want to talk about this anymore. But you owe Dirk this, you think. “Sure.” 

“Is … was it just me?” 

There’s a joke on the tip of your tongue about whether he really thinks that you, Dave fucking Strider, didn’t get, like, all of the pussy in college or whatever - because you genuinely did, okay - but you can’t quite bring yourself to make it. You know it’s not what he means; you know the answer he’s looking for is one that you’ve only ever admitted to yourself. “No,” you confess. “It was never - I never watched shit or anything else, but I … it’s not like I could exactly shut my brain off sometimes, you know?” 

Abruptly, you realize that you’re pretty sure that you’re about two seconds away from crying. That’s fine. It’s fine.

“Huh,” Dirk says, and again, you know that that wasn’t the answer he expected or wanted. “You okay?”

“Yeah,” you say automatically. “I mean. Jesus, I’m not gonna pretend that I want to talk about this shit, but … I honestly probably should’ve told you sooner. Like, hey, you’ve probably already guessed because I’m basically your dad and I’ve more than admitted that I’m down to clown or whatever, but I’m also kind of a major fuckin’ creep.” 

Dirk makes a soft noise that you think is supposed to indicate disagreement. “You’re not a creep,” he says. “Well, okay, maybe technically, but I believe when you say that you’ve never done anything, and I mean, I’ve seen firsthand that you care about doing shit right, y’know?”

You don’t think you can answer that without crying, so you just swallow and say, “Did you - was there anything else you wanted to ask?”

There’s a pause. At first, it makes you optimistic that this conversation is over, that you’ve aired all of the dirty laundry and years-old aches and you can just fall asleep and deal with the repercussions tomorrow, but as it stretches on, that hope fades to the fear that Dirk is just waiting because he’s afraid of whatever your next answer is going to be. 

“Did it,” he starts, then stops. “Sorry, I don’t know, like, how to put this. When I hit puberty, did you - is it different now?” 

You squeeze your eyes shut, open them again, wonder, for a second, how things would’ve turned out if Dirk had stayed in New York. Whether you’d be better or much, much worse. “I mean,” you say, and immediately wince because you know that’s already told Dirk that the rest of your answer is not going to be something that he wants to hear. “Different’s, like, subjective, right? I … I don’t know, really, I’d be lying if I said that it was something that I really wanted to get all introspective about, but - yeah? I guess? It’s like, the things that I see in you now, somewhere in there, some of them shifted from things that I used to see, if that makes any sense.” 

“Yeah, I think I get what you’re saying,” Dirk says. There’s a beat, then another, then, “Hey, you know I’m not judging you, right? You didn’t fuck me up or anything, I did that all on my own.” 

“Sure,” you mumble. You roll back onto your side and bury your face in his shoulder. “I love you.” 

“I love you too,” he says. “Now get some sleep, old man.” 

“Oh, shut up,” you say, fake scowling into his shirt sleeve and pretending like you don’t hear the implicit acceptance in his words. You’re not sure that you want to face him tomorrow, not with the knowledge that the two of you now share, you know that there are still unanswered questions lying between you, like whether he’ll ever grow out of you loving him like you do and what you’ll both do then, but - you’ll figure it out. It’s all you can do.

**Author's Note:**

> thanks for reading! feedback is always super appreciated <3


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